


Aftermath

by alcesmonarch



Category: Homestuck, metro 2033
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Blood, Death, Despair, Gore, Guns, Monsters, Multi, Mutants, Nuclear Fallout, Suicide, Tears, Violence, post apocalyptic, probably like 800 more things idk, tags updated as i go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcesmonarch/pseuds/alcesmonarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the bombs dropped, humanity fled to underground shelters and tunnels. For several long years they waited, unsure of what was going on on the surface far above them. Scouting teams left, and never returned. Adults are given the choice every day; stay down here, safely trapped in rock and doomed to never see the light of day again - or go to the surface and die facing an unknown enemy.</p><p>Dave Strider has no intentions on being a cave dweller any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Going Underground

**Author's Note:**

> Gasp! First fanfic. This is a cross-over of Homestuck and Metro 2033, but you actually don't need to have play/read either of them to read this.

You’ve had the same nightmares now for five years. Of being in your home, alone on a warm summer afternoon when the sun is just beginning to fade from the sky - and you can hear a tune, soft and slow but haunting, repeating the same few chords over and over again. The song continues to play, and for a few minutes you just sit there and listen to it in the warmth of the sun coming in through the window. As you rise from the futon to look for the source of the sound, the only sound you can hear - the door bursts open and it’s clowns. 

It’s always goddamn clowns. You had never been afraid of clowns, never been interested in them at all really. An old friend of yours had a thing for clowns. “Harlequins,” he’d argue. “Not clowns.” Not that it matters, because you’re 85% sure that friend is dead now. You knew him back when you were a kid, a friend you’d made through the internet from some dumb website or another - back when internet was a Thing. When friends were a Thing. Before the bombs dropped. 

You suppose thats where the door bursting in your dream comes from. The day is clear in your mind, burned into it forever. If you survived to become a senile old man unable to remember his own name, you would still remember that day. You had been thirteen years old when the first bomb hit, striking down Tokyo like a meteor. To this day, no one actually knows who started it the war, but whoever started it also ended it. There was no telling which country would be struck next; Australia then Germany then Canada - and when you think about it, who the fuck would attack Canada? It’s like targeting Narnia people just don’t do that shit. The world started going up in flame and some of those flames were green, so no one wanted to wait around for a scientist to tell them that that there would be radiation. Besides, radiation is to be expected by now. 

Long story short, everyone wound up underground. All of humanity formed big underground cities and tunnels and new lives as mole people, while an unknown assailant wiped out all traces of mankind on the surface. If you hadn’t been living it at the time, you’d say it was damn cliche. 

You still think it’s damn cliche. That old friend of yours would have found it awesome though, and thinking of him being excited about it sometimes brings a ghost of a smile to your face. 

Two years after the bombs dropped, they told you there was no radiation on the surface. It was a false alarm according to old men with fancy degrees and balding heads. Nothing could possibly go wrong from vacating the safety of the underground tunnels that had become a new home, and returning to life after massive bombs had struck the world. Your little colony of ants were cautious, and sent up a small group of about ten people. None of them came back. 

Not a single one of the young, fit men returned to your colony. The barely functioning radios that kept you connected to the rest of the world kept insisting that everything was fine. Two more months and they sent out a second batch of young warrior hopefuls, an eager group looking to reclaim their favourite above-ground hangouts.

They made a mistake.  
They included your brother. 

A week passed without word and you remember waiting at the edge of the shantytown that had become home to hundreds of people. You were fifteen, on the brink of considering yourself a man. Had you been but two years older and you might’ve been a lucky candidate for the suicide mission yourself. Each and every day, as dictated by the Mayor who was in charge of keeping the clocks, you waited with baited breath for the big iron doors to open and usher in the light of day and the triumphant return of your brother. 

Two weeks passed. The doors didn’t usher in the golden light of sun as you remembered, but rather the flickering light of fire from the long tunnel that led from the Inner Gate to the Outer Gate. It wasn’t the glorious return you expected, but any natural light was better than the fluorescent tubing running the length of your underground world. Three people returned who were not already Gate Guards, and you fought with elbows and grunts to make your way to the front of the quickly amassed viewers.

None of them were your big bro. They looked horrible. One of them was missing his right leg from the knee down, the second looked like half of his body had been horribly burnt. The third one had his head wrapped in bandages, so only the bottom half of his face could be seen. They were immediately rushed to the makeshift hospital, unable to actually speak words to anyone in the gathered crowd. 

You were, of course, among those who followed to the hospital. You needed to know what happened to your brother, what happened to the men that had left the tunnels. What could cause such horrific injuries? The man who was missing part of his leg was the only one able to speak, because the other two had bitten their tongues out. He made no sense, speaking rushed and panicked. 

He muttered about horrendous shapes, monsters floating down made of the stars themselves, creatures whose very presence you could feel like ice in your bones. The ones that didn’t come from the skies came from the warped and twisted remains of vegetation, long limbs and sharp claws and horrible, horrible sounds. If they heard you, you were dead. If they smelled you, you were dead. If they saw you, you were better off turning your weapon on yourself because there was no escape. 

Their group had managed to slay one of the beasts, and only one of the ten men had had the strength to watch the beast die. He promptly clawed his own eyes out so he could never again witness such a thing. 

When all three of them died two days later of their injuries, your brother was buried with his face still wrapped up.


	2. Mushrooms, mushrooms, mushrooms

Electronic music blasts loudly in your ears, expertly covering the loud clang and ring of your hammer smashing steel against an anvil. Sometimes you turn the music down a little, and smash steel to the tune of what you’re listening to. When you were younger, you’d pretend you were making the music yourself and fed it into all your work. By younger, of course, you mean last week, when you were sixteen. 

Your birthday passed two days ago, a celebrated affair that permanently slaps the label ‘ADULT’ across your face at the tender age of only seventeen years. You’ve been living in an underground bunker with three thousand other people for four years. Fifteen batches of young, eager adults have left for the surface, and of the 150 men only about 30 have returned. 

Four months ago you decided that you no longer cared about winning whatever wars raged on still. When your number gets pulled from the magic hat, the only thing going through your mind will be finding out what your brother saw. What made him react the way he had. 

The song changes, and you smash the hammer down one last time before finally lifting your mask to survey the work done. Your creation is a sword, nothing overly fancy. Standard, typical sort of long bladed weapon, and when it’s finished you’ll be able to switch easily between a one handed or a two handed grasp. If you could have it your way, you’d work on your blade for another three hours but unfortunately, free time with the forge is over. 

A hand pats your shoulder as you carefully store your unfinished work, making you stop to tap the music player strapped to the back of your belt with one thick glove. The headphones on your ears go silent. 

“Comin’ along pretty great there, Stri. ‘Nother week or two, probs?” The naturally cheerful tone looks grotesquely out of place on the dirt-smeared face of a kid you’ve come to consider a friend. Gary Kerman, he turned seventeen a few months ago. He works the same shift as you picking mushrooms, and the delusional kid entertains you with his crazy tales of growing up on the West coast. If you’re lucky, you can get him to talk for hours about the ocean. He used to live right near it, and the biggest body of water you’ve ever seen first hand was the one sad excuse for a pool at the recreation center a few blocks off where you and your Bro had lived. 

“‘Ey, earth to Dave. You even listenin’ to me? You didn’t even turn your noise off didja.” Gary pouts at you and you laugh at him, nudging your headphones off with a shrug of one padded shoulder. In silence he shakes his head at you, and the two of you hang up your masks and jackets and exit the tunnel. 

The layout of your underground world is very simple. Near the Gates is the Hospital and City Hall buildings, where the Mayor and Timekeeper and their families live. Around them is the tents and makeshift homes of the upper class. Moving deeper into the tunnel, there are four different food stores. You use the term ‘store’ lightly, since there isn’t really any actual money system here. You’ve heard that other places have bartering systems or actual money still, but in your subterranean universe it just isn’t a thing. Everyone’s options for dinner is the mildly luminescent mushrooms that you and Gary help cultivate, the eggs from the three hundred or so chickens that are kept in one of the branching tunnels (or chicken meat when the hens stop laying eggs), the sickly fish that were found in an underground lake not too far down yet another tunnel, or worms. 

To be completely honest, you actually really enjoy the little fish. 

Moving on from the food options, the tunnel widens out to where the majority of people live, in various combinations of tents and poorly constructed wooden shacks. Fires aren’t allowed inside homes, so every twenty feet or so there are small fires where families gather to cook food and enjoy warmth and light. The fluorescent lights along the ceiling of the tunnels won’t last forever after all, so they’re only kept turned on during peak ‘daylight’ hours. 

The main tunnel is rather oblong shaped, in your head you picture it as a giant egg. On the Eastern side is a short but broad side tunnel, where the chickens and cows are kept. You can’t imagine they’re very happy about living underground all their lives, but it means milk and eggs for everyone, and grand feasts when something dies. Just beside the animal tunnel is where you and Gary work, growing and harvesting the bitter little mushrooms. Luckily for you they grow better in chicken shit than cow shit, which is significantly easier to wash off at the end of the day. The glowing mushrooms aren’t the only kind you grow, but you prefer them over the larger, meatier ones and only because those ones grow in cow manure. 

On the opposite side of town are multiple tunnels which are the communal toilets. They’re disgusting and you don’t even want to talk about them. Finally to the south end, are the forges and various places of craft work. At all hours of the day people are welding, mending, sawing, hammering, everything they can do to make the miserable lives of the cavedwellers a little more bearable. 

Gary grabs your attention again as you make your way along the dirt trail leading around tents, headed towards the mushroom tunnels. “I heard they’re thinking of sending out another group soon, huh? You goin’ to try to be on it this time?”

“Not until my sword is sharp enough to be the sword that pierces the heavens,” Your throat is dry and your voice cracks halfway through the reference that no one else understands. “Maverick said guns don’t seem to be all that great up top.”

“Yeah,” Gary’s tone is way too cheerful. “But I’d rather load ‘em up with lead from a distance than get way too close with a blade. You’re just gonna die, Dave.”

You answer by punching him in the shoulder and then shoving him into the tunnel wall so that you can get first choice in oversized rubber boots and gloves to begin your shift of shroom plucking.


	3. Ooh, kitty!

_A melodious voice calls your name, bodiless and effervescent. She flits through the trees, bathed in the ethereal glow of sunlight filtering down through the trees. You can’t put a name to what kind of trees they are, but you know they definitely aren’t from where you’re from. In the soft breeze you can smell salt and hear the cry of birds that are so unfamiliar, but you would bet all the money in your pockets that they’re from the sea. Perhaps you’ve never been there before but you are definitely sure that you are somewhere near the sea._

_She calls to you again and you spin around, and there in the shade of what you’re pretty sure is a palm tree leans a girl you’ve only met in your dreams. Is this a dream? Her eyes are unnaturally green, wide and bright and mischievous in sharp contrast to the gentle, teasing little smile on her tanned face. The breeze picks up again and blows long night-dark hair around narrow shoulders, and for a brief second you can see the entire universe shimmering gold in her locks._

_Her smile tugs on your heart and her voice fills your ears with honey, and even if you didn’t will your feet on towards her they seem to pick up the pace themselves. Your limbs are heavy though, and you stumble in her direction to her apparent great amusement. Her laughter is pure music, the song of the angels like you’ve never heard them before._

_“I like you better when you smile, Dave! You should do it more. Or are you too cool to smile?”_

_You can’t open your mouth to speak to her, and her perfect smile is replaced with a sad little frown. “Oh, you’re leaving so soon? You need to come back to visit me soon, promise!”_

_The wind is so strong, it’s pushing you back away from her. No matter how much you struggle, the girl and her trees and her sea birds get farther and farther away._

 

When you wake up, you find yourself staring at the roof of your tent. Ever since your brother died it’s just been you in here alone with all of your combined crap. The various crates of belongings comfort your racing heart, and you groan as you sit up to take stock of your surroundings. Who was that girl? Her face is fleeting in your mind now that you’re more awake, but her voice feels so familiar. 

Noise outside your tent finally grabs your attention with a hook. Loud shouting and a woman’s scream has you scrambling to find your boots and jacket, and as a last thought you make sure you grab Dirk’s knife from his rolled up sleeping bag. With the weapon carefully concealed in your pants you leave your tent to figure out what’s going on. 

The first thing you notice is people running everywhere. All the commotion wakes up other people who had been working shifts similar to yours, and the general consensus is that everything is in a huge panic. Babies and children are crying, men are gathering their families together out of harms way, whatever that harm may be. Since you don’t have anything else to do with your free time other than sleep, you head straight for the main cause.

“Hold it steady now! Don’t let it - watch out for that tail! Careful now!” You can hear people shouting about some sort of creature as you approach, and when you manage to break through the crowd you actually get a brief view of the culprit before you’re blocked by legs. 

At first glance it appears to be the size of a large dog, with a long and sleek black body. A powerful tail sweeps a grown man right off his feet, and beyond the shouting you can hear it make a deep guttural growl. Not sure how to help, you stand back and watch for an opportune moment. 

You’re completely frozen in place when four stark white eyes lock onto you, and the black face opens to reveal a mouth with two rows of razor sharp teeth. You don’t even have a chance to reach for your knife before the monster shakes off all the people struggling with it like leaves, and you only barely see it beginning to lunge before you’re on your back with a tremendous weight on your chest. 

Stars dance in your vision as the breath is knocked from you, and this is a really shitty way to die. You’re supposed to go out like a crowned hero, dying gloriously in the midst of battle with some yet to be named enemy. It will be such a spectacular death, people everywhere will know your name as Sir Dave the Mighty, the sword-wielding warrior who went down in a literal ball of flame from fighting a dragon or demon or something. Not crushed to death by an overgrown, purring ball of -

The beast on top of you is purring, snapping you from your dreams of better deaths. Two pairs of eyes are watching your face, and a long purple tongue is lolling out of a narrow mouth. No one else seems to know what to do either, but the purring monster is certainly not a threat anymore. In fact, you even manage to shove it off with no reaction. It lets out an unimaginably cute mewl and flops over on its side in defeat. Or exhaustion. You’ll go with defeat. 

“Uh…” You nudge it with a foot, and earn another mewl in response. “What the fuck.”

“Do you know what this is? Or where it came from?” Steve Rasmusens, one of the men on the council, approaches you very cautiously so as to not upset the… cat? Looking at it now it definitely resembles a very large cat. You shake your head in response to his question. “Someone get a cage for it!”

You’re terrified to move while people work quickly to put together a rough wooden cage for the mutant cat. As you wait, you find out that no one really got hurt from it, it just took everyone by surprise as it seemingly came out of nowhere. They checked the gates, they checked the airway filters, they checked all the ends of the tunnels and there were no mysterious entrances for the mutant cat. It just appeared out of nowhere, and you’re starting to wonder if maybe it’s a ghost cat. 

When the cage is finally finished being built, it takes considerably less effort than you thought it would to get the giant feline into said cage. It puts up no more fuss than a kitten would, and gives you yet another little meow in response to the barred door closing. Everyone around you breathes a deep sigh of relief once it’s locked away, and even you give a small sigh despite the realization that there was no actual danger in the first place. 

“Well, what do we even do with her?” You don’t know why, but gazing into the monster cats four eerie white eyes inspires a feeling of fealty. This cat has done nothing to or for you, but there is a degree of loyalty to that. After all, she also didn’t kill you.

Rasmusens crosses his arms, standing back and giving the beast a good looking over. “Her? Strider what do you know about this monster?”

You shake your head. “I know that it’s fucking heavy when it’s sitting on my chest. Beyond that I know probably a little less than anyone else here. But I get the feeling that it’s a female, you know? I mean with hips like that, such a lean figure-”

“Okay, that’s enough. We’ll take it down a tunnel to be disposed of at once, who knows what kind of diseases this thing carries-”

“Wait!” You can’t help but take an almost possessive step in front of the cage, arms out defensively. “Wait. Don’t kill it. It didn’t hurt anyone, right? That means that it isn’t particularly aggressive. We could study it, figure out what it is or what it came from instead!”

He doesn’t look impressed, but you can just see the wheels in his head starting to turn. The cat can be studied. Perhaps she can help them figure out something about what is going on on the surface. There might actually be a silver lining to this. “You make a good point Strider. Alright, we won’t kill her. She’s your responsibility and she can share your rations. Come on men, take the beast to one of the Southern tunnels.”

You follow along as the caged monster cat is shoved onto a cart, and it takes two men to push the cart along the dirt towards the back of the cavern. Along one of the smaller rear tunnels mostly used for exploration purposes, a heavy iron spike is driven deep into the rock with a long chain attached. A rough steel collar is quickly put together in the forge, and once it’s cooled down enough you’re tasked with putting the collar and chain on the mutant kitty. 

She purrs like woodchipper as you fit the collar around her muscular neck, one pair of eyes always on you while the other pair blinks. . You can’t see her pupils, suspect that she doesn’t have any, but you still get the sense that she’s watching you closely. While you pet her (surprisingly soft) head, you can’t help but feel relief that you’ve saved this beast.


	4. Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry the gap is so big between the paragraphs. I'm posting most of these using my work computer which sucks major balls. They'll eventually be edited to not look so dumb. Thanks for reading!

“Maybe she’s a normal cat that someone snuck down here, and she mutated from eating those three eyed rats.”

“What three eyed rats? There was one three eyed rat. You’re thinking of the ones with two tails.”

“No no, there were definitely multiple three eyed rats. Would that be enough to warrant spontaneous growth of two extra eyes though?”

“You’re a spontaneous growth.”

“My dick’s a spontaneous growth if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I knew it, you’re actually a chick.”

“Daaave!”

The crackle of your small campfire is lost in the sounds of laughter. The sounds bounce off the tunnel walls, making it feel like there’s more than just the three of you sitting surrounded by hefty darkness. As the laughter filters out, replaced by crackling flames and cracking bones, you give an involuntary shiver and scoot a little closer to the open fire. 

It’s been a month since you rescued Mutini from death when the supercat appeared in the middle of town. She’s proven her worth to the whole clan, expertly hunting down rats that plague the foodstores. Most people still mistrust her, but no one can deny that she’s been incredibly beneficial in keeping the other animals healthy. 

Her monster jaws snap another captured rat cleanly in two, and it disappears down her throat in two swallows. You can easily see her as being some monster of legend, all fierce growls and flashing claws - but then she makes this tiny mewl like a squeaky door and you’re reminded that she’s more of a grotesquely overgrown kitten. 

Gary has taken to hanging out back here with you and Mutini. He’s actually the one who named her, because you had wanted to call her Overlord Kittikana the Four Eyed Harbinger of Death. Your name is obviously superior, but she purrs louder when you call her Mutini so you’ll just have to learn to accept it. 

The silence is just as ominous as the darkness around you, made worse by the sounds of Mutini crunching on rat bones. Gary’s face looks drawn in the glow of the fire, red eyebrows knitted together in concern. You’d ask what’s on his mind but he beats you to the punch.

“We’re all gonna die down here, aren’t we. We thought that this would be our saving grace but we’ve just trapped ourselves in mass graves. Dave do you remember the sky?”

You keep your gaze level. “Gary, how is the sky?”

“What the fuck Strider?”

“No no, hear me out . Imagine the sky for a moment. So blue, so vast. Amazing, right? And it’s just chilling up there on the surface waiting for us. We can’t go see it right now yo but it’ll be totally happy when we finally get this whole war thing figured out. So imagine how the sky is. We miss it, it misses us. And one day we’ll be reunited under the azure heavens. So close we can almost taste it.” You reach a hand aimlessly in front of you as if touching something invisible.

Gary stares at you. “You’re fucking nuts.”

“Is that what your mom’s name is?”

You have all of three seconds to protect your face before Gary is punching you.

\--

When you finally finish your sword, you dub it ‘Superior Hacking Instrument of Termination’ or SHIT for short. It is your most prized piece of shit so far. You’d needed help from some of the more experienced metalworkers to properly forge the hilt and guard, but the final piece is a sturdy and well balanced hand and a half double-edged sword. Sure it isn’t the fanciest looking blade, but it’s sharp and will serve you well when you go to the surface.

You also put your name in the bucket for surface duty. The Sergeant has been looking at you to sign up ever since your birthday, mostly because you have no family left and therefor not as many people will care when you don’t come back. Those who have no one are greatly encouraged (read: bullied) to enlist themselves. You don’t need any bullying; you’ve got a personal vendetta against whatever is up there.

One week before surface departure; you and the nine other ~~sacrifices~~ recruits are taken down a narrow tunnel to a firing range, and everyone is shown how to clean, load, and fire the weapons. Despite the thorough instructions you inform the Sergeant that you have no intentions on using the weapon. You’ve got your trusty SHIT. He laughs at you and informs you your death is imminent.

You remind him that you’re a Strider, and you won’t go down without taking a few of those bastards with you.

The last night before your ascent you spend shaking and sweating against the tunnel wall near the bathrooms, desperately begging whatever gods want to listen to soothe your boiling stomach. You can’t eat, you can’t sleep. Strider legacy be damned you have never been so nervous for something before in your life. You’re probably going to die; you can practically see the death counter ticking down above your head, every second closer to your end. You can hear it. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Until the terminal Tock and eternal silence. 

You throw up. 

When morning is announced by the lights turning on, you’re already suited up. Your survival bag is on your back, filled with emergency medical supplies, rations, sleeping and fire making gear, and filters for your gas mask. Your sword is at your hip where you can easily draw it, and you’re also armed with your brother’s knife and a small pistol that Gary begged you to take. 

“Pump ‘em full of lead for me, Dave. And don’t die.”

The tunnel has never felt so claustrophobic to you as you march boldly to the Gates, standing in line with your comrades. The entire atmosphere is somber, a thousand pairs of eyes on your back. There are no words left to send you on your way, only a quiet “Good luck,” and handshake. 

You hold your head high and disguise your trembling hands as the inner Gates open, heavily armed guards flanking your group as you collectively ascend the long, long stairs. There are actually two more sets of gates before you can feel the difference in air, and each set of gates is heavily barricaded and requires four men to open. 

The final gate is not what you expected at all; it’s more of just an ordinary door like one you’d see at a school. Someone in your group throws up from nerves and you’re relieved that it isn’t you.

When they open the door you’re so not ready.


	5. Sunlight

You’ve made a mistake. You’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. 

That door opens, and you’ve been lead to believe that it’s morning. Your group was to rise in the morning, travel out for three days and return. Share what you’ve learned with the board. Be heroes. Rinse and repeat in two months. 

The first thing you notice is that it’s fucking dark outside. It’s already hard to see through your gas mask, but there is no glorious light of day awaiting you on the surface. It’s dark. Your group leaves one by one, slowly, carefully. The entrance to your underground world is just a small metal door, blue according to the inside but the paint has been completely stripped off the outside, leaving just the bare grey steel. 

You can’t see very far into the darkness, but you think you’re outside of what looks like the remains of a school. There’s the twisted remains of what you’re pretty sure is a basketball hoop across the cracked pavement, and broad bricks lay everywhere. The leader of your group waves and the ten of you fall into line behind him, creeping around the partially collapsed wall of the building. 

The second thing you notice is that it is absolutely silent. There is no wind, no sounds of wildlife, and even your boots on the ground seem muffled beyond what your gas mask would muffle. You can’t look into the shadows at the edge of the yard, because you’re terrified of them staring back at you.

All ten of you pause at the edge of the building, one brave soul peeking around the corner. You wait with baited breath for any kind of a signal, any sign at all that there is nothing about to come and rip all of your heads off around that corner. Finally the group begins to move again, sneaking around the perimiter of the ruined school. There are no stars out, and you can’t see the moon but you know it’s there because it’s not totally pitch black out. The sky is some sort of swirling darkness that you really hope is clouds. Considering the lack of wind and the rate that the sky is swirling, you don’t really think it’s clouds.

The trip around the ruined school is short and sweet and mercifully uninterrupted. Once you’ve made a full loop, the group collectively turns to walk off the property. At the warped chain link fence, someone trips over a twisted chunk of charred black metal. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be a gun. Or was a gun. If you hadn’t gone to the bathroom before leaving, you’d probably have pissed yourself from seeing that.

“Maybe someone just… dropped it. That would explain why it’s just here, right? Without any sign of… anyone…” One of the guys in the team say nervously. Their voice feels impossibly loud in the muffled silence. 

“Yeah, because dropping a gun’ll cause it to burn an’ melt an’ twist like that,” someone else says, and you should really have learned their names because at this point you’re going to give them numbers. 

No one else says anything in response, which you’re feeling pretty happy about. As much as you hate the silence, you hate how loud voices are right now. With nothing else making sounds, you feel like even your breath is a homing beacon for trouble. The group moves on from the deserted gun, and you’re careful not to look back at it. For no particular reason you feel that looking back at it now will result in something that you really don’t want to see. 

The road leading away from the school is completely empty. There aren’t any hulking, rusted out shells of cars lining the street. There isn’t any kind of debris actually. On either side of you, skeletal buildings reach skyward with bony fingers. Empty windows watch each and every step you take like they’re judging you, counting down silently to your demise. 

Everyone pauses when a bright light suddenly illuminates a section of the road about fifteen feet ahead of you. By pause you mean come to a complete fucking stop, including your heart, and you’re guessing that no one else is breathing either. There is no break in the swirling cloud cover, nothing you can actually see that would cause the light. 

Nothing happens. The light is bright, illuminating about fifteen square feet of cracked and dirty road, sidewalk, and dirt. It’s a perfect square. Someone in your group grabs a rock from the side of the road and throws it as hard as they can towards the light, just to see what would happen. 

CLACK.

Clack.

Click.

The rock bounces into the square of light. No one dares breathe. For a few seconds, absolutely nothing happens. They might be the most tense seconds of your life, because for once you honestly have no idea what could even happen. There are so many mysteries surrounding everything. 

A loud, ear piercing screech quickly replaces the silence, so sudden and so loud that everyone drops to their knees. The shriek leaves your ears ringing so bad you’re dizzy, clinging to the ground like you’re afraid you’ll fall off it. It comes again, louder this time and closer, and you think you’re going to pass out from the sheer volume. 

An earth shaking _thud_ helps you gather your wits enough to look up. Something is in the illuminated patch. From your position on the ground, you’d say it’s about nine feet tall, with a long thin neck ending in head with a viciously curved beak. Instead of arms, it has long feathered wings with what appears to be clawed hands on the leading edge. Its body is round, almost bulbous, and it has no tail. 

Your breath is frozen in your throat as it sniffs the rock, then slowly raises its head and rests one bright white eye in your direction.


	6. Welp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter starts getting a little violent and gory. I'm upping the rating to M simply for uh. Things that happen.

The beast’s single white eye stares endlessly in the direction of your group, and no one dares fucking move. There’s always the chance that the white means it’s blind, so if everyone stays perfectly still it might not be able to tell where everyone is. Unless of course it can smell you. It can probably smell you.

It continues staring, and you continue trying really hard not to shit your pants. It might not be able to see you, maybe it can’t smell you. If you stay very very still, maybe it’ll fly off and never think about where that rock came from. You’ll survive and go back down into the earth and never ever dream of returning to the surface ever again.

The explosion of a gun’s muzzle just in front and to the right of you makes you yet again thankful that you went to the bathroom before you left. Regardless you think you peed a little. The gun goes off again, firing lead at the monster. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?” It isn’t you that yells but you’re close to it as well. The bullets sink into dark flesh, and the monster lets out another ear splitting shriek of pain and anger. You watch as that one single white eyeball rolls in its head, suddenly filling with intense red. 

Two more people start firing at it as it lunges towards you, and everyone but the three shooters realize that it would be a lot easier to just fucking run. You’re part of the running group. You jump off the ground like it’s radioactive and on fire and just fucking _book it_ across cracked pavement. You’re blinded from terror, a familiar feeling that leaves a coppery taste in your mouth. Did you bite your tongue? Probably. A broken doorway is your target, and you fling yourself into the interior of the building without even checking first if it’s safe. 

Even if there’s something inside this building that’s three times more dangerous than the monster outside, you don’t care. You retreat through the house, towards the back and away from the street so that it’s less likely to find you. There are foot steps on your heels, heavy boots following you. Two others decided that hiding is the best option, and all three of you duck underneath the old wooden table sitting in the kitchen of the building. 

None of you say a single word. The sound of gunfire has stopped. You take a moment to inspect the kitchen from your place hiding on the floor like a coward. Dust and dirt and broken glass covers the floor, but you can still see a faint black and white tiled pattern and your guess is that it’s linoleum and nothing fancy like actual tile. The cabinets are white, or were white at one point before the sun and stale air yellowed them like an apple core. You miss apple juice suddenly, more than you ever have before. 

The two guys hiding with you under the table are shaking like leaves. You wonder if you are too, but you can’t tell. Your heart is definitely racing fast enough for the rest of you to be shaking. Looking through the clear plastic of your gasmask, you can’t meet either of their eyes. 

All around you is silence. No creaking from the house, no wind rattling the empty window panes. No screams of pain, no gunshots. Just the barely-there breaths you and the other two dare to take. Any second now you think that monster is just going to smash through the wall behind you, reach down and devour you whole in a single snap of its jaws. Any second and there’s going to be screaming and pain and blood. 

Carl reaches for his gun. You know that’s his name because it’s sewn into the front of his jacket, probably by his mother. What’s he doing out here if he has family down below? His hands are shaking as he lifts the pistol out of the holster, turning it slowly in his hands. 

“Carl,” whispers the other guy. “Carl what are you doing?” It’s hard to hear his muffled whisper through his gas mask, which is okay. It means it’ll be harder for anything else to hear him. The other guy, you don’t know his name - he’s staring at Carl and you can see his eyes through his mask. He’s pale and wide eyed.

Carl’s shaking gets worse, and you’re very confused. Why is he playing with his gun so intently? He won’t look at anyone. “I can’t take this, Brad…” Oh. Oh god. Oh no.

“Please-” You reach for him when he lifts the weapon to the side of his head. “No no no it’ll hear you please man don’t do this don’t-” 

BANG.

Red showers the far wall, and Carl’s now lifeless body slides to the ground with a brand new hole in his head. There’s a scream, and you don’t know if it’s from you or Brad. Both of you scramble away from the corpse quickly, unable to look away but wanting to look anywhere else. 

Your face is wet, and it takes you a second to realize that you’re crying. You didn’t know this guy, but he’s dead and it wasn’t even in battle. He didn’t need to die. This was a senseless, unnecessary death and oh god you’re going to puke. You’re going to throw up inside your gas mask and you’ll be breathing in your own fumes and-

Brad grabs your arm and tugs you up and away. You can’t look at him until he jabs you hard, but when you glance at him he nods forward.

Two dark figures stand in the doorway of the room. They shimmer slightly, like they’re made of smoke. One is significantly larger, with long wavy horns arching up above its head. You can barely make out their faces; glowing orange and black eyes, mouths like jagged wounds in their heads and filled with daggers for teeth. 

Your heart stops when the tall one honks.

HONK.

honk.

They step towards you and Brad is bodily shoving you out the back door of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are gonna be a little on the slow side. I recently lost my job and coupled with depression, it means I don't have much muse left. If you've got any questions about the plot or something isn't overly clear, hit up my tumblr: maliceincorporated.tumblr.com


	7. Click

Your body moves on autopilot, Brad’s hand helping steer you from its firm position on your shoulder. The backyard of the house you were hiding in is bare, all the grass long since dead. The wooden fence is half rotted, and you have no problem smashing through it to get to the next yard. And the next. And the next. The entire time Brad is shoving you forward, tugging you to the side if there’s something you would’ve tripped over. 

Neither of you are willing to look backwards to see if anything is chasing you. The important thing on both of your minds is to put as much distance between yourselves, that house, carl’s body, and those shadowy figures. 

Five blocks away you spot an overturned box truck, and gesture towards it. Brad apparently agrees with the silent indication and the two of you slow down as you approach. He pulls out his flashlight and looks around the insides of the back of the truck for anything spooky. Seeing nothing, you both crawl inside. You don’t like it; not being able to see anything coming makes you anxious as fuck but it’ll stop anything from being able to spot you at a distance. 

Brad is shaking as he pulls one of his water bottles out of his bag, lifting up the edge of his gas mask only long enough to fill his mouth. You do the same, and even though you know water isn’t supposed to taste like anything you can only taste ash. 

“Carl is my - was. Carl _was_ my little sister’s boyfriend. They got in a fight, so he signed up to… t-to spite her,” His voice is shaking like he’s struggling to hold back tears. You don’t blame him. “He was supposed to come back. She’s pregnant. He w-wasn’t supposed to..”

You feel like you should hug him. You don’t. Brad curls in on himself slightly, defensive and hard edged and hugging him would probably result in a good old punch in the face. You know Brad. Vaguely, but you recall him and your bro getting along really well. He used to go around and beat up the neighbourhood bullies. 

“What do we do now?” You whisper into the grainy darkness. Brad doesn’t answer you for a long moment. 

“We should keep moving. This is good temporary cover, but we should see if we can find anyone else. Drink some more water, kid. We’ll rest a bit longer here, but then we need to keep moving,” Brad slumps slightly, shrugging off his bag. You do the same after a few seconds, lifting your water bottle to your face again. 

The two of you sit in silence for several long minutes, listening to the nothing outside. Every so often you hear wind swirling debris in the street, but beyond that there is nothing except your breathing. Your face is itchy under the gas mask but you don’t dare take it off. Even though they told you that there’s no radiation, you’d rather believe that 4’ tall candy coloured ponies were the cause of the entire war. Yeah, not likely.

“Do you think-” You’re cut off by Brad suddenly raising a hand, head tipped to one side like he’s listening intently. Obeying, you shut up and focus as well. 

It’s windy again, moaning around the truck in waves. But there’s something else, a sound you can’t quite place. It’s sort of like a clicking sound - a dog walking over a hard surface like tile or hardwood for example, or acrylic nails on a counter. Neither of you know what to think of the disembodied clicking. It makes you nervous, coming at you from all around the truck. If you want to know what it is, you’d have to leave the little bit of shelter that the truck offers. If you leave the safety, you’ll die. If you stay there you’ll die. 

Brad gives you a look and then stands slowly, grabbing his gun. You also stand, prepared to run if you need to. There really is no telling what’s going on outside of the truck. The clicking continues, slowing down to the left of you but speeding up on the right. Brad inches towards the exit, slowly and cautiously, head cocked to one side to listen to the clicking. The sounds intensify the closer you get to the back of the truck. 

Just as Brad touches the door, the clicking gets so loud it’s more like a constant buzz. Briefly your imagination gets away from you, and you envision the box of the truck completely swarmed by angry bees in high heels. It almost makes you laugh - if you weren’t 80% sure you were about to die you’d definitely be laughing about this. 

He throws open the door and rolls out of the truck, and you follow him with your shitty sword raised and ready to hack into limbs. 

Nothing happens. 

Both of you stand there, weapons raised and scanning the street, the sky, the buildings, the truck you were just hiding in - and there’s nothing there. No signs of whatever was making the clicking sounds. You walk around the perimeter of the truck to look for the source, but there’s just nothing. For the second time in as many minutes you feel like laughing. You don’t, of course. That would be suicide. 

Still, the feeling of unease that the two of you got in the truck makes you wary to re-enter. Brad darts back in briefly to grab the bags that you’d forgotten to grab when you left the first time, and then you both agree to keep moving. 

You don’t feel comfortable walking beside the buildings. The glassless windows are like sad, empty eyes on their burnt facades, and you feel them tug at your heart with the cry of wind whistling through hollowed interiors. It’s depressing and eerie and you can’t walk too close to them. Brad calls you a pussy, but he doesn’t walk any closer to them than you do. 

The journey down the street is mercifully eventless, but neither of you dare relax. Every shadow you look at you swear contains one of those shadowy figures, and every few minutes you’re looking over your shoulder. Brad does too, and neither of you say anything to each other about it. You decide not to go down side streets - they’re too dark and closed in by the tall buildings, definitely too dangerous for just two people. Maybe if you still had your whole group you’d choose that path. 

You’ll never have your whole group. One of ten is dead for sure, and you can’t imagine that the three guys who had been shooting at that bird monster had survived. So most likely your group of ten is now six, with the other four scattered somewhere away from you and Brad. 

If something happens to Brad, you’ll be completely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another reminder that due to reasons including depression and lack of employment, my energy to write has gone down. New chapters will be sadly infrequent until I get my life back together. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me via tumblr at maliceincorporated.tumblr.com


	8. Lights

Four and a half hours, you’ve been walking in a straight line through the echoing streets. You’re both exhausted, thirsty, hungry - but if you stop you’re dead. The general direction of travel is Southbound, according to your compass. It’s still dark out, and you haven’t seen any more of those bizarre patches of light. You’re thankful for that. 

Brad doesn’t seem to trust the houses. He doesn’t want to stop and risk running into another monster, but at the same time he recognizes that both of you need to stop and rest soon. There’s just nowhere safe enough to rest. 

He stops by a small park, and you have to stop and stare at it with him. 

At first you really can’t tell what’s wrong with it. It looks like an ordinary everyday park. The paint is chipped and peeling off the metal playground, and the swings are moving back and forth quietly in a breeze. The actual playground portion is only about fifteen feet in diameter, one large multi-level structure designed for climbing, with three slides coming off the various levels. A small swing set with two rubber seats, and one of those weird little spring toys for little kids to ride on, this one shaped like a green rabbit. The handles for kids to hold onto come right out of the sides of its head; they always creeped you out when you were a child. 

There’s nothing wrong with it, but Brad is still staring so you take a closer look. Everything is old, metal rusted and the grass is dead. Your eye keeps going back to that spring toy. The spring is rusted, you don’t know what colour it was ever supposed to be. The rabbit is green.

It dawns on you. The rabbit is _green_. Bright grass green, with wide white eyes. It looks freshly painted whereas everything else looks like it’s been abandoned for years. You’re staring into a greyed out ghost of a park, but that swing toy is a single point of brightness that casts the rest of the playground in stark contrast.

You think you’ve seen that exact shade of green before, but you can’t recall where. It might’ve been a dream.   
Brad grabs your attention and points to the base of the metal structure in the playground. There’s a small cove there, covered on three sides by thick aluminum. It would make a good temporary shelter; you’ll have to take turns keeping an eye out while the other naps but with three sides walled in, it’ll be much safer. He goes to the gate in the rusted chain link fence surrounding the area, and you both flinch when it makes a loud screech. 

Wind blows past your gas mask and you warily watch the skies for monster birds, but it would seem that nothing noticed the sound of the gate opening. You count it as crazy luck, because that sound was insanely loud. Brad creeps forward through the field first, constantly looking around for sudden attacks. The dead grass is silent under your boots, but the gravel in the playground crunches obscenely. Both of you give the brightly painted rabbit swing a wide berth, and you shine your flashlight into the small cove under the structure to make sure no living shadows occupy it. 

You climb in first, and Brad follows you in. You put your back to the metal wall and force your tense muscles to relax, force yourself to accept this little bit of reprieve. 

“I’ll take first watch, Dave,” Brad says quietly, moving his gun into his lap. “Two hour naps, we’ll rest here for a few hours to get our strength up and then keep moving.” 

You can’t argue with him, so you settle into a more comfortable position against the corner of the little shelter. From this angle, you can see the wide white eyes of that bunny swing. You can also hear the wind beginning to pick up, tinny whistling echoing through the playground. It picks up the dead grass, blowing debris around the field. 

The last thing you focus on before you let sleep take you is that it’s really weird how the swings aren’t blowing in the wind. 

_You wake up in the playground, but it’s so different. As you pull yourself out of the hideout, you turn your face towards the sun and enjoy the warm breeze pushing your pale hair around. Kids run past you, laughing and playing tag. They look so happy, it even cracks a smile on your own weary face._

_“Oh, you made it!” That voice is familiar, and you turn around quickly to see that same green-eyed girl dance towards you across the grass. She looks so happy, happier than the kids and it warms your heart. “I’ve been watching you, Dave! I was so so worried, but everything is okay now. Come with me!” She turns away from you, skipping over to the green rabbit swing. Even here the paint looks crisp and new, but everything is so crisp here. The dark haired girl rests her hands on the bunny’s head, wide eyes focused on your face._

_You note that her eyes are almost the same brilliant emerald as the toy. “Bunnies are **safe** , Dave! You can always trust a bunny to lead you in the right direction. You don’t need to be afraid of them!” You can’t even pretend to understand that, but before you can voice this she’s moving again, twirling in the warm breeze. “I have to go, I’ll see you soon again Dave! Green is good!”_

_You reach for her, but the gravel of the playground has turned to quicksand beneath your feet, glueing you in place. The children all vanished, and the colour is draining away._

You wake up with a jolt, grabbing the hilt of your sword out of reflex. Brad is completely still, but you can’t see his face because of the light glaring off of his mask. 

It clicks. You’re surrounded by bright spotlight. The entire park has been illuminated by something unknown, just like that random square when your group had first left the safety of the underground. 

The green bunny is bobbing back and forth like something had pushed it, and even though it’s so bright you think you can see something moving in the light. You have to squint, because you don’t dare move to shade your eyes. It stings; damn your light sensitivity and you know you’ll pay for it later, but if it means not dying right now because you foolishly moved then so be it. 

You and Brad are trapped by the square of light.


	9. Nine

“Don’t move,” Brad hisses at you when he notices you’re awake. You don’t argue with his tone. “This light appeared about ten minutes ago while you were snoring like a fuckin’ sixty year old man with bad nasal congestion. No wonder no one ever wants to share a tent with you.”

You find his sense of humor very misplaced at the moment. Striders don’t snore. It’s basically an unwritten law that anyone with the last name Strider does not snore. Way too uncool for you. “And you didn’t wake me up because..?”

“You’re just so darn cute when you’re sleeping, you fucking baby.”

He’s whispering loudly, and you really wish you could see his face. See what he’s feeling right now, because you really can’t tell by the back view of his head. His hair is getting a little long. You bet he’ll get it cut once you make it back underground. 

“You’re a dick,” you finally answer him. He snorts but doesn’t say anything. “Can we wait the light out? How long did it last before?”

He gives a very slight shake of his head. “We ran before the light went out. If the light went out. We might be here a long time.”

You slowly, carefully shift so that your back is to the metal sides of the shelter and sigh. The light is so bright, it really is unlike anything you’ve seen in your years in the underground. A perfectly square patch of sunlight, just like you remember from your childhood. As you stare across the brightly lit playground, you remember spending hot summer afternoons on the roof of your apartment building with your Bro, playing with swords and just laughing and having a good time. 

The war took everything from you, but you’ll always know how to use a sword because of him. He taught you to survive, and he’d be really upset if you died here.

Brad shifts forward slightly, and you watch him with wide eyes. He seems nervous, you think. His hands twitch as they reach for his weapon. The movement from him makes you look out into the light again, trying to find the danger. From what you can see, there’s nothing - he’s just jumpy and prematurely reaching. Maybe he’ll feel better if he’s got his gun in hand. It’s probably along the same thought train that makes you more comfortable when you have the smooth handle of a sword in hand.

Ten more minutes pass like molasses. Sweat drips down the back of your neck, because along with the intensely focused sunlight, you two are trapped under a bizarre wave of heat. Every so often you hear a heart-stopping creak of metal and you don’t want to think that the jungle gym above you might actually collapse from it. The years of no use and whatever weather the surface gets now probably hasn’t been kind to the structure. 

Brad is breathing heavily, and in another frame of mind you place a bet on what will collapse first; your shelter or Brad. That’s terrible though and you immediately feel bad for thinking about it. 

“We might needa run for it, Dave.”

You look up from the ground when he speaks, and try to figure out what he’s thinking about by staring intently into the back of his head, like you could pick apart his brain from the outside. 

“If that giant ass bird is out there again, we don’t stand a chance if we run. We should wait man.”

He gives another subtle shake of his head. Still afraid to move too much. “We’re gonna roast alive under this heat. Run and be caught, or stay and be cooked.”

You can feel the panic rising in your chest, and your grip on your sword tightens. Sweat drips into your eyes, exacerbated by the presence of the gas mask. “Wait, Brad. Wait a little longer.” He doesn’t answer you, but he also doesn’t make any move to leave the shelter. 

In the playground, you can see the rubber seat of the swing drip oily black onto the gravel. Despite the heat you shudder; seeing things melt has always weirded you out for some reason. Like every movie you’ve watched where someone on an acid trip sees things melt. It’s just creepy. You keep watching, and the swing seat slowly drips into a small rubber puddle beneath the chains.   
Something moves. Right at the very edge of the playground, something moves in the light. At first you think it’s just a trick of your eyes, but by the jerk of Brad’s head you assume he sees it too. Squinting, you lean forward to get a better look at it. 

It appears to be a rabbit, sort of. Mottled white-grey-green, the ears are as long as its body and curl backwards at an odd angle. It has no eyes, and its tail is more like a rats tail than any fuzzy bunny butt you’ve ever seen. You’ve literally never seen anything like it - you’ve never even seen a live rabbit before. The apartment building you’d lived in with your Bro before the bombs hadn’t allowed pets, so you’d never even gone to a pet store out of curiosity. It hadn’t been important.

You kind of wish you knew what rabbits were supposed to look like now.

The rabbit-thing hops more into the light, and you hear Brad take in a sharp breath. As if on cue, both of you are brought to your stomachs with hands clamped over your ears at the earth-shattering screech of the monster bird rips through the air like a hot knife through butter. You can barely see as it slams down into the playground, smashing over various structures like the swing set. 

It has its back to you.

Brad doesn’t give you a chance to think; he’s pulling on you roughly and running out of the small shelter. Youre a half step behind him.

Panic takes over once again as you race away from the monster bird as fast as you can, the only sounds in your ears is your heart pounding so hard your fear it’s going to burst. Your breath comes out in quick hot pants and you pray to whatever god might have survived the bombs that you don’t trip and fall.

Neither of you dare to look back to see if the bird is following. 

Over the fence, down the road, a sharp right onto a side street, and you’re still running. You probably run for another mile at least before you start to slow down. Your legs and lungs are screaming at you for rest and oxygen, but fear is in complete control. It isn’t until you see a small fire escape down the side of a tall apartment building that you dare stop.

Immediately, your blood turns to ice in your veins. 

Somewhere in that run you lost Brad.

You are completely alone.


End file.
